


Bent

by thegrendel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage and Discipline, Dildos, Dominance, Enemas, F/M, Healing, Impotence, Mind Manipulation, Precognition, Restraints, Stock Market, Strong Female Characters, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrendel/pseuds/thegrendel
Summary: You're crippled and impotent and the only option for healing is a nurse who gives high-voltage electric enemas. And that's the good news. The bad news is ...





	Bent

It's tough getting dates when your body is bent and twisted. Ben knew  
all about it. Ever since the accident three years back, women had given  
him a wide berth.

He had been a letterman in both high school and college. Football,  
baseball, wrestling, and even lacrosse one year. Picking up women had  
never been a problem. He'd always had a steady, and usually three or four  
others in reserve when his main squeeze was unavailable. He'd left a trail  
of broken hearts behind him when he moved to Boston to enter law school.

If he hadn't been blind drunk that night, he probably could have avoided  
the patch of ice. If he hadn't been doing 90 on a two-lane country road,  
he probably wouldn't have lost control and gone over the embankment when  
he hit the ice. It was sleeting heavily when his Hummer skidded and went  
through the guard rail, and the next thing he knew he was hurtling toward  
a dark shape and . . .

The surgeons had saved his eyesight and fixed up his mangled arms and  
legs. But they couldn't do much about a shattered spine. He was lucky  
he could still walk, even if only with a cane. But his back would aways  
be twisted and contorted. At 28, with all his life in front of him, Ben  
hobbled along like an old man, bent over and facing the ground. Bent-over  
and bent.

Benjie Bubbles his friends had called him in an earlier and happier  
time. He had been the golden boy, the intelligent jock, the guy who  
got all the girls, the man most likely to succeed. He had succeeded all  
right. Succeeded in destroying his life.

No career, no money, no prospects. Obviously he couldn't practice  
law when even a small flight of stairs could defeat him, and when he  
got bone-tired after sitting upright in a chair for more than a few  
minutes at a time. Not to mention that clients looked at him with a  
mixture of horror and pity. The partners at the law firm had, in effect,  
pensioned him off with what had at the time seemed like a generous cash  
settlement. A generous cash settlement that the hospitals and the doctors  
had greedily carved up among themselves.

The hardest part of it all was the lack of female companionship. He  
used to love the feel of a soft woman in his arms. It wasn't even so  
much the sex, though that had been delightful, too. It was the kissing,  
the talking, the interplay and the touching, even the occasional nuzzle  
and playful grab-ass. The sense of being part of a twosome, of something  
greater than himself . . . And here he lay confined in this nonfunctional  
wreck of a body, in his prison of isolation, cut off from the rest of  
the whole damned human race.

There was a new person coming later in the afternoon. The state agency  
sent nurse's aides and caretakers to check up on him, to change the bed  
linens, to do food shopping for him, and to help him with all the small  
tasks he needed to do for basic survival.

The bell chimed and Ben painfully limped to the door. Whoa! That was one  
hell of a good-looking redhead standing there. It was too much to hope  
for that this was the agency person, but she _was_ in nurse's uniform,  
and hey, why not take in an eyeful while he had the chance.

"Hi! I'm Corliss Marlowe from the agency, and you're Benjamin Daniel  
Pinchbeck, right?" She had a bright, cheery voice and a luminous smile.

"C-come in, please," he managed. Man, was this broad built! Big-breasted,  
wide-hipped, curves out the wazoo. She had to be 5'10" easily, or maybe  
even a bit more, and she towered over his pitifully bent-over, twisted  
frame.

"Now, if you'd just sign and date this form, Ben, we can get right to  
business. It's a standard consent for treatment. Don't bother reading  
the fine print; it would only put you to sleep."

Corliss was a rehab specialist, she said. She had been assigned to try  
out on him an experimental type of physical therapy that sometimes proved  
helpful in cases of severe spinal nerve damage.

"First, a deep massage to relax and loosen you up. Here, let me help you  
turn over."

Ah, that felt good. Her strong hands kneaded and rubbed lotion into his  
neck and upper lower back. Ben was undressed, down to boxer shorts and  
Corliss leaned over him as he lay facedown on the bed.

"Now, stay as you are, Ben. The second phase of today's treatment involves  
a prostate massage. But first we'll need to get you clean inside. Squeaky  
clean. That means a full course of enemas."

Enemas? Ben wasn't sure he wanted any part of _this_. He groaned and  
started struggle upright.

"Sorry, Ben, that's not an option any more. I can't let you back out at  
this point. You _did_ sign a consent, after all. Don't force me to  
use restraints."

Restraints? What was going on here?

"Please, be gentle, will you? My mother gave me an enema once when I  
was little, and it hurt."

"I'm very good at this, Ben. Just remember who's the professional here."

She put a firm hand on the small of his back and pressed him back down.

"Here, let's make you comfortable," she said as she slipped a pillow  
under his chin. He felt his shorts being pulled from the waist down to  
the knees, then she was rubbing some kind of aromatic cream into his bare  
buttocks. It _did_ feel good, and he let himself sink into the  
mattress.

"This type of enema nozzle is specially designed to minimize discomfort,  
and I'll apply a dab of ointment to your opening to make things go even  
smoother."

Ben felt her gently probing the valley between his butt cheeks, then  
there was a cold and wet sensation on his bum hole . . . and something  
had slipped _inside_ him. He jerked backwards, involuntarily.

"Relax, Ben. That was just my finger. I was lubricating your sphincter  
and checking the muscle tone there. Now I'm ready to insert the nozzle."

It didn't hurt at all going in. He was rather shocked when he found  
himself actually starting to enjoy the experience -- the sense of being  
cared for and nurtured, of having Corliss's free hand caressing his bare  
hind cheeks while she seated the business end of the enema hose in his  
bum hole. Of listening to her hum in a low murmur words he could almost,  
but not quite understand. Of sensing the warm liquid slowly trickle into  
him and feeling his guts gurgle and roil in response. It was comforting,  
and he was starting to get hard underneath. Strange. He couldn't remember  
getting an erection since before the accident. It was an unexpected  
affirmation of his manhood. It felt good.

"This is an infusion of mild Castile soap to clean you out. Since you're  
a beginner at this sort of thing, we're starting with half a quart. Now,  
see if you can hold it in for ten minutes."

His stomach had begun to cramp before she finished speaking. He gasped,  
then clamped down with his abdominal muscles.

"Good, Ben. Just a little longer. You're doing fine."

She helped support him as he limped into the bathroom, then stood watch  
as he noisily expelled fluid and gas and solid matter. Somehow, it didn't  
seem at all unnatural or intrusive to see her there in the doorway,  
looking down at him, witnessing his noisy bowel movement, hearing his  
defecation sounds and smelling the stench of his waste. He was still  
erect as he sat there naked on the toilet seat but it didn't occur to  
him to feel embarrassment. It was as if he had regressed back to a young  
child, and Corliss was the mother. . . .

Ben was lying flat on his stomach on the bed again. Two more enemas,  
one of saline solution to "rinse out any remaining residue" and one of  
"electrolytes" had left him completely exhausted and he was starting  
to drift into sleep. Then he felt her comforting hands massaging his  
buttocks once more.

"We'll end today's treatment with a prostate massage. You'll find it  
rather enjoyable, I think."

Her finger found its way into him with almost no resistance and he felt  
himself being palpated and stroked from inside. It was both soothing and  
intense in a way that he had never before experienced -- being penetrated,  
opened up and turned inside out -- and there was an unfamiliar tingling  
sensation in his gut. It was as if an electric current were coursing  
through him. Then his body was releasing its aching need in a gentle,  
explosionless orgasm as the liquid seeped out from his softly throbbing  
organ underneath.

Corliss was massaging his neck, then she whispered goodbye into his ear  
and softly kissed him on the cheek. He heard the front door click shut.

 

"WHAT? There's no such person on your staff? That's impossible! She was  
here just a couple of hours ago!"

"In fact, Mr. Pinchbeck, it has been determined that you are no longer  
eligible for services and accordingly, your account has been closed. You  
would be well advised to apply for an emergency grant from Welfare."

Something very strange was going on here, Ben thought as he hung up  
the phone. The treatment _had_ helped him, as his back pains were less  
intense and he could actually unbend a bit further than before when he  
stood up. But who the bloody hell was Corliss Marlowe, and _what was she  
doing to him_?

 

Four days later the bell rang. Damned if it wasn't that Corliss woman  
again. Should he let her in? Ben hesitated, torn between suspicion of her  
motives -- she _was_ an impostor, after all -- and the  
uncontrollable urge to submit himself to her and her compelling touch. Oh,  
all right, he'd give her a chance to explain . . . but before he could  
unlock the door, Corliss had inserted a key in the lock and was letting  
herself in. Where in hell had she gotten a hold of a door key?

"What do you think you're -- "

"Ben," she said, "it's so good to see you again! I would have been back  
sooner, but I was called away on an emergency. No matter. Well, it seems  
we've got something very special planned for today's treatment. You won't  
believe how much it will help you. Ready to start?"

She had unbuttoned her coat and beneath it her nurse's uniform seemed  
even more tight-fitting and revealing than the last time. Ben gaped  
open-mouthed at the ripe lushness of her form.

Ben was bent over forward, facedown on the bed. Surprisingly, this posture  
caused him no discomfort at all. Corliss had simply pressed certain spots  
on his lower spine, and this had instantly unlimbered stiff muscles and  
tendons enough to enable him to bend. His broken body responded to her  
magic hands.

When he felt his buttocks being parted it sent chills down his ravaged  
spine. This was an essential part of the treatment, he now understood.

He felt her finger enter him, then probe deeper. Ah, yes, now she was  
tickling his prostate, but just when it was starting to arouse him,  
she withdrew. Now something else was pressing into him, something  
larger. Something cold and slippery.

"Two fingers," Corliss said. "This session will involve different  
techniques, but first we need to stretch you. How are you holding up?"

He felt her fingers rotating inside him, then stretching his hole sideways.

"I'll manage," he said.

"Let's try a third finger. Remember to exhale and gently push outward  
with your sphincter muscles, as if you were evacuating a stool."

She had pulled out, and now he _definitely_ felt the stretch as she  
inserted again. Except for a slight burning sensation, though, it felt  
just fine. In fact, he was getting to _like_ having his ass  
stimulated. He could feel his organ starting to harden.

"Now, Ben," Corliss said, "the purpose of all this is to prepare your  
anus for a special type of bio-electric probe. Calibrated doses of  
high-frequency current applied from inside the rectum have proven  
effective in stimulating self-repair of damaged nerve tissue in the  
spine. This is the reason that you've been stretched and loosened,  
to give me access to --"

She had again removed her fingers from inside him. He managed to crane  
his neck to look back over his shoulder at her (he was just barely  
limber enough for that after the previous treatment). She had strapped  
on a wide belt of some sort of metallic mesh. Attached to it there seemed  
to be some cables leading to a box with flashing multicolored lights and  
various switches and dials. Now she was inserting a shiny cylinder through  
a cutout in the front of the belt, at groin level. It had a rounded,  
bulbous head. In fact, it looked like a large, chrome-plated dildo!

She was smiling and shaking an index finger at him. "I know exactly  
what you're thinking, you naughty boy," she said. "Yes, it does somewhat  
resemble a strap-on rig -- the sort of thing you might find in a sex shop,  
but this one has a special function. It's actually the output terminal for  
a 20,000 volt power supply. If it delivered ordinary 60 Hz house current,  
it would, of course, be instantly lethal, but at ultra-high frequencies  
it will pass from your rectum through your spinal cord and up into your  
hindbrain without tissue damage and affect only the nervous system."

SHEEIT! Twenty-thousand volts!!! This crazy broad was gonna _fry_  
his butt! Electrocute him! _Help!_

Ben squirmed to his knees and tried to struggle upright, but by then  
Corliss had a powerful hand clamped on the back of his neck and he felt  
a stab of blinding pain as his limbs folded up and he collapsed back  
onto the bed. He was totally immobilized. Paralyzed and helpless.

She had manacled his arms and legs to the bedposts with resilient plastic  
straps -- probably the "restraints" she had threatened him with in the  
earlier session. Lying there, flat on his stomach, he felt the bed indent  
to either side as she straddled his rump.

He didn't try to resist when she pulled apart his buttocks and inserted  
a finger into him, then two.

"Good. You're nice and loose in there. Now, don't clench your sphincter  
as you're being entered. That could cause discomfort, or even damage, and  
we certainly don't want _that_. Exhale and push out gently,  
as before."

Something impossibly huge was trying to press into his hole, and he  
couldn't keep it out. Then it popped past the narrowness at the entrance  
and it was sliding, sliding up inside, up into his guts, and even further  
up, and he was being broken open and split apart. . . .

Corliss' groin ground into the crack of his ass and that had to mean  
she was all the way into him. Ben lay there, unable to move, utterly  
transfixed by the impaling shaft. Then came a warning tingle of . . .  
something. Electricity! There was a faint crackling and the air reeked  
of ozone. And his body spasmed and went rigid as great jolts of current  
blasted into him and stole away his mind.

He was only dimly aware of his surroundings. He was lying on his stomach,  
floating, bobbing on the rolling waves of a horizonless sunlit sea. And  
something was piercing him, right up into the very center of him (it  
was a mauve-colored ache, a deliciously sensual agony). And there was a  
woman present, touching him, caressing his forehead with a cool hand,  
crooning to him. And he heard his own voice, babbling an incoherent  
stream of words. And he felt nauseous, hideously bloated, and his mouth  
had a strange metallic taste in it.

 

Ben awoke in his bed. He was desperately thirsty, and when he called out  
for Corliss there was no answer. There was moonlight streaming in through  
the half-open curtains of the window. It was night! How long had he slept  
(or been unconscious)? His watch told him that forty hours had passed  
since Corliss had rung the doorbell.

Damn it! This shit couldn't go on. But what were the alternatives? Call  
the police? Hire a private investigator to get to the bottom of this?  
Engage a bodyguard to protect him from that woman?

That fucking woman! She was doing _something_ to him. What?

He rolled over off the bed and got to his feet. No pain! Just some  
residual stiffness, but he was almost fully limber again. Whatever  
it was that Corliss had been doing to him, it was healing him. She was  
 _healing_ him! And _fucking him in the ass_ with that weird  
metal dildo. And sending thousands of volts up his back passage. And  
probably doing all sorts of other bent things to him.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it meant taking  
drastic measures.

 

Three days later the doorbell rang. Ben got up to let Corliss in. He had  
been expecting her.

"Don't need a cane any more, do you, Ben?"

"Thanks to you and your treatments, no."

"Well, after today's session, you should be fully restored to health.  
What do you say we get started."

He was flat on his stomach on the bed again. He had let Corliss know  
that no restraints would be necessary this time. She had smiled and  
commended him for being a good boy.

Ben voluntarily opened himself up to the metal shaft, and it slid smoothly  
up into him. No pain at all -- in fact there was an exquisite sensual  
pleasure to the liquid friction of the chrome penis pumping in and out  
of him. He had asked Corliss to fuck him with it before turning on the  
current, just so he could find out what it felt like, to find out what  
queers got out of being being the bottom in anal sex. She had been most  
happy to oblige. She _enjoyed_ fucking him in the ass. And he  
found that he enjoyed _being_ fucked.

All too soon, he felt the tingle of electricity deep in his gut.

"Sorry, Ben, time to get down to business."

He was floating in a dream-trance once more, with his limbs flailing  
about spastically, babbling nonsense. But this time, _this time_ ,  
it would be different. Ben had prepared . . .

 

The image on the monitor showed Corliss from the rear. From time to time  
there were glimpses of the gleaming dildo protruding from her mesh belt  
as it penetrated into the man's behind. Now the body laying facedown on  
the bed went rigid, as if from a massive jolt of electricity. And he  
was babbling.
    
    
       "Earthquake in Nicaragua . . . 7.6 on the Richter Scale . . . Positron
        Semiconductor up 10% on news of a new breakthrough in fabricating
        . . . SEC halts trading in Barbary Pirates Group shares on news
        of CEO Harl Groombie's fraud indictment . . . Dark Desire wins the
        Preakness at 11 to 1 odds . . . Fed Funds rate increased a full point,
        mortgage rates expected to rise . . . Terrorist strikes in . . . "
    

The news. Not today's news, though. None of this had happened. But  
suddenly Ben got a premonition that it _would_ happen -- tomorrow,  
or next week, or next month, or . . .

Foretelling the future? He had heard vague rumors about a super-secret  
government "Remote Prediction Project." Supposedly, subjects had  
the precognitive parts of their brain awakened by jolts of current,  
or something like that. This was supposed to make them temporarily  
clairvoyant -- able to peer into the future -- but there had been problems  
of some sort. . . . Shit! It was all beginning to make sense now. This  
was what Corliss was after!

If you knew what the future held, you could make a killing in the stock  
market, on horse races, and in a dozen other ways. You could avoid both  
natural and man-made catastrophes. Hell, you could easily end up ruling  
the fucking world!

Ben had come up with a bright idea, all right, hiding a video camera  
overhead so he could record the action when Corliss dropped in for a  
visit. But he hadn't expected anything _this_ strange.

Curing him of his crippling injury? Making a whole man out him again? That  
was fine and dandy, but it paled in comparison to . . . Yeah, Corliss  
had done him a huge favor, all right, but the payback, oh, yes, the  
payback . . .

Now the screen showed the shining dildo withdrawing out of him. But, what  
was _this_? She was pulling what looked like a metallic glove over  
her right hand. The glove went all the way up her arm, past the elbow.  
Now she was attaching a wire harness to it -- and what was that? --  
dipping the gloved hand into a jar of something, and now . . . She  
was inserting the hand into him, into his butt, fingers first; and  
the metal-gloved hand was disappearing into him! She was fisting him,  
 _fisting him_ , and now her arm was pumping in and out!

At one point Corliss had her arm inside him almost all the way up to the  
armpit, it looked like. And, all the while, he kept babbling. Forecasting  
the future. The future that he now had a glimpse into. The future that  
could hold certain very interesting possibilities for him . . .

 

The doorbell rang.

"No treatment today. I'm here to say goodbye."

"It's been a pleasure knowing you, Corliss."

"Likewise, Ben. I see that your circumstances have improved a bit since  
I was last here. You're moving around without any impairment, but that  
was to be expected. And you've made some expensive-looking alterations  
to your house. Your financial situation has improved, it appears. That  
was also to be expected. My associates were wondering how long it would  
take you to catch on and record one of the sessions."

"Yes, I'm doing much better now, thank you."

"So, before we part, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"You know there is, Corliss. I've wanted you since I first saw you walk  
through that door. At the time I wasn't in much of a position to do  
anything about it, but now . . . "

"I take it then, that you wouldn't settle for a farewell kiss."

"Bingo."

"Well, in that case . . . "

In a sudden fluid motion, Corliss pulled down her uniform skirt and  
stepped out of her drawers. She winked, then turned away from Ben and  
bent over forward.

"I'm yours, Ben, all yours. Take me . . . if you can."

He couldn't. Even staring hungrily at her gleaming bare ass and the  
naked pink lips of her shaven pussy, he couldn't, just couldn't get it  
up. _Couldn't._

Corliss straightened up and drew up her skirt. She looked at him and  
smiled.

"You see, Ben. For all the benefits you got from your treatment, there  
happens to be one rather unfortunate side-effect. You've been rendered  
conditionally impotent. You can no longer be physically aroused by a woman  
in the normal manner. The only way you can obtain release, and experience  
orgasm, is to be anally penetrated. You're healthy and you're wealthy,  
but you're permanently bent."

"I had intended to thank you for healing me, Corliss. Now, I don't know  
if I should curse you instead. Get the hell out of my sight before I do  
something we'll both regret."

"Goodbye, Ben."

"Fuck you, Corliss."

**Author's Note:**

> Non-disclaimer:  
> The characters in this story may or may not have counterparts in real life. Any resemblance to real persons may be coincidental. But probably not.


End file.
